


Burning Desire

by drippingwithsin



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Not truly a Vera/Bridget but yeah, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drippingwithsin/pseuds/drippingwithsin
Summary: It's just something about Vera that calls to a person's inner alpha.





	Burning Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little tidbit to pass the time. May or may not continue.

It begins like most things in life; small, subtle and filled with a certain frustrating confusion that makes one want to yank their hair out by the very roots. Well, at least on Bridget’s part it did. Vera, however, remained as per usual in her own blissful state of unawares.  


It's ridiculous. Truly maddening. These feelings beginning to gnaw at Bridget’s gut. This one-sided desire burning, lapping at the very foundation of her life.

  
Why now when she has everything in order and is honest to goodness happy for once does this monster decide to rear its ugly head? 

  
She already has a woman who loves her dearly and she her. They are good together, drawn to one another like magnets. Soulmates if you will. Yet something about her petite friend calls to Bridget. Awakens the long-dormant beast inside. Urges she feels in ounces with Franky rain down in gallons when in the presence of Vera. Nearly drowning her in a sea of barely contained primal instincts. To take. To control. To possess.

  
With Franky, she’s always the subdued one. The one laying back and being taken. The one who’s ‘controlled’. A true lesbian feminist’s nightmare really. But with Vera, Bridget's inner alpha female roars, wanting to show its dominance. Be the one sitting on the couch whilst waif-like hips rise and fall on three of her fingers. To be the one who orders complete submissiveness as Vera bends over her own desk; back arched, lacy clad pert arse high in the air begging to be mounted.

_  
“Ms. Westfall,”_

  
Actually have the strength to hold someone against the wall, sinewy legs wrapped around her waist as she takes and takes until they're both breathless from exhaustion.

   
_“Bridget?”_

   
To have a hesitant, albeit desperate hand push at the back of her head, burying her mouth deeper into an ungodly sweet delicious-

   
“Bridget!”

   
Bridget snaps back to reality with a jolt, blinking away the cobwebs from both vision and mind only to have embarrassment inflame her cheeks when the object of her musings(tawdry fantasies) comes into clarity.

   
Immaculately uniformed, Vera stands in front Bridget’s desk peering down at her with finely shaped brows scrunched in concern.

   
“Oh, Vera, I-”

   
“Goodness, Bridget are you alright? I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes now.”

   
“Yes, sorry. Just have a lot on my mind of late.” Bridget tries to shake it off. To pacify the curiosity practically vibrating from the tempting little kitten before her.

   
Doe blue eyes study her pensively, and Bridget feels her core give a rebellious throb under their scrutiny. Earnesty. Naivety. A truly irresistible banquet to a wolf in sheep's clothing. The blonde resists the urge to lick her lips. 

   
“Are you sure?” She presses. Ever the kind one. Another wave of heat scorches a path down Bridget's body. Settling in her core.

   
“Yes," The blonde clears her throat, trying fruitlessly to quell the beast inside. And akin to turning down the knob on a gas oven the fire behind azure eyes gradually lowers to a cool simmer."I’m sure. Now, what can I do for you?”

   
Vera eyes her once more. Suspicion and concern plain on her face for a tense few seconds, before it finally melts away to professionalism. “Here are the rest of those papers on Ferguson you ordered.”

   
Bridget feels herself go instantly dry at the mere mention of the cunt’s name and has never been more grateful to hear it. Perhaps she may use it in the future as a means to correct this madness.

   
She takes the ridiculously thick folder from Vera. “Well someone’s been a busy girl, hasn’t she?”

   
“I’ll say.” Vera comes around the desk and bends over Bridget’s shoulder to have a closer look, sending a rich perfumed blast of air washing over the blonde’s senses.

   
Bridget inhales deeply, and just barely contains a shudder. The words beginning to blur as she fades out. She could take her right now. On this desk. Just this one time. Nobody would have to know. Franky would never-Jesus. She’s losing her mind.

 

_Ferguson_

 

_Ferguson_

 

_Ferguson_

 

It does not work as well as before. The inferno nowhere near chaotic is nonetheless still smoldering.

   
This time, she peers down at the diabolical eyes seemingly staring back. Their effect, however, is nearly instantaneous. A mid-autumn lake is dumped onto the fire. Smoke billows, relief comes in waves. Bridget inwardly sighs and actually begins to read what she's been staring at.

The page contains what she already suspects. Ferguson is a complete total psychopath. One of whom shouldn't be here of all places or even out in public for that matter. A dangerous rogue lioness no one can contain.

   
“How do you reckon she wound up here?” Vera inquires, staring in the same vicinity as Bridget.

   
“Knowing her it wasn’t by any legal means.” The psychologist all but scoffs prompting a honey coated giggle at her side.

   
Feeling the telltale prickle of desire creep along her body(groin) at the sound, Bridget bites the inside of her jaw and glances back to the image of her arch nemesis. She narrows her eyes at Ferguson. Ferguson glares back. It works. Anything warm and good inside is immediately siphoned away. 

   
Yes, perhaps she should make a few copies for herself.

  
**END?**


End file.
